


Inescapable

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Handcuffed Together, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7089304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Seth, at the intersection of bad ideas and worse luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inescapable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Unconditional](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194650) by [Moonsault](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault), [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Happy birthday, mithen! ❤️ (It's still the 4th in my time zone, if not yours! /0\\)

It had not been Dean's night so far. First, he'd heard Paige and Summer talking _way_ too happily about Seth Rollins being in the building. Then, Jericho had run in to cheap-shot him before his match with Del Rio could even get started. To add insult to injury, by the time he'd escaped the trainers, catering had run out of cheesecake, and in the time he'd been in line to learn as much, he'd gotten a face full of pollen from the clusters of red-black blooms arranged along the buffet.

He was sore - and hadn't even gotten the satisfaction of a good fight out of it - and his eyes itched and, even as he wound purposefully through the backstage hallways of the arena, his lungs were still full of the cloying smell of the flowers, too sweet and a little rotten at the back of his throat. He'd had a shitty night, but as he produced the silver cuffs from his back pocket and ran the links of the chain through his fingers, he consoled himself with the thought that at least he'd be able to share the wealth soon.

He didn't even bother to really hide - figured he could bank on Seth having gotten complacent in all that time away, all that time before with Dean's attention turned elsewhere. Instead, he just skulked in between a couple of half-empty equipment carts and waited for him to blow past on his way to the office to kiss Stephanie's ass. If he still knew Seth at all, it was only a matter of time until he showed. While he waited, he fidgeted, toying idly with the cuffs, shifting on his feet in a way that was definitely not dancing, rubbing at his face and neck, his skin still prickly and uncomfortably flushed.

There was one close call, but the approaching footsteps he'd tensed for turned out to belong to Kevin Owens, booking it toward the parking ramp with a hunted look on his face and his head on a swivel. He spotted Dean and all but hissed at him as he fled the arena. Watching him go, something sharp and hot stirred in the back of Dean's brain, down in the dark where all of his _bestworst_ ideas came from, urging him to run Owens down, break him or get broken. He pushed the thought down hard.

"Eat 'im up, Sami," he murmured, shaking it off and settling back in to wait, unaccountably keyed up, heart pounding heavy under his skin. Maybe he'd missed rattling Seth's cage more than he'd wanted to admit, to Roman, to anybody, to himself. It _was_ how they'd started, and even back when he would have died for Seth, it'd always been the best kind of fun to wind him up.

So, it was stupid-ass misplaced nostalgia, the way his heart sped hearing the quick, sharp tread of Seth's dress shoes eating up the length of the hallway. That was fine; he'd swallowed worse.

When Seth swanned past, he darted out, grabbing him, driving him into the far wall. The impact forced Seth's breath from his lungs in a hot burst of air against his neck, and Dean suppressed the shiver that built along his spine.

"Wha-?" Seth spluttered, hands planted against Dean's chest and tensed to shove him away. His palms were hot through the thin fabric of his tank top, and Dean's mouth went dry.

Before he could do anything stupider than remembering the way Seth's mouth felt on his throat, he snapped one sturdy cuff around Seth's wrist, and, before Seth could do more than twist his face into a disbelieving snarl, fit the other around his own wrist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Seth spat, anger bringing high color to his cheeks.

He shrugged. "Making sure Roman gets a fair fight tonight. You make a run-in, you're gonna be carryin' his back-up with you."

Seth flung his hand away in disgust, the chain pulling tight between them. "You really are a fucking lunatic, aren't you?"

He chuckled and took a small step back, away from the heat of Seth's body and the way his own wanted to press into it. "Call it justice if you want."

Seth jerked uselessly against the chain, digging the cuff hard into Dean's skin and giving his shoulder - thankfully not the bad one - a jolt. "I can't believe you, Ambrose. You think this is funny? I have a million things to do, and they're all more important than you."

He laughed again, humorless and dry, and squashed down the urge to reach out and touch Seth - his hair all gone dark again, his arms bigger inside the sleeves of his white dress shirt than the last time they'd shared the same air. "Funny. I remember when doing me used to come in pretty high on your list of priorities."

Seth made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat and wrapped both fists in the front of Dean's shirt. "Shut. Up." He shook him in frustration, and the shirt ripped into shreds in his hands.

He was trying to find something to say - a sharp, ugly rejoinder that would distract him from his heart pounding in his throat, from Seth's nearness, from how he itched to make Seth moan again and how he wasn't fussy about whether he got there with his lips or his fists - when Seth gave a growl of frustration and surged in to kiss him, urgent and insistent.

He opened his mouth, and Seth breathed in the pathetic, pained noise he made as he stepped into him. The handcuffs made things awkward - more awkward than making out with somebody you were trying really fucking hard to hate already was - hands suspended mostly-useless on one side, but he curled his hand around Seth's skin below the cuff, found his pulse fast and hard under his fingertips, while Seth's free hand scrabbled at the tatters of his shirt, pushing them aside to find the bare skin of his chest, ribs, back.

He walked them back toward the wall, and Seth waltzed him around at the last moment, so that it was Dean who wound up with his back pressed flush to the cool blocks, Seth hemming him in with his heat and his extra bulk. He shifted, slotting his own thigh between Seth's, managing - barely - not to rut against him and registering the uncontrolled snap of Seth's hips and the erection poorly-hidden by his dress pants.

Seth did moan then - a broken noise that still squeezed hard at something in Dean's chest - and lurched away like his touch had scalded him. And maybe it had; he'd definitely felt himself burning up under Seth's hands.

"What is this?" Seth asked, scrubbing his free hand down his face. His eyes were wide and dark, mostly pupil, as he cast his gaze up and down the hallway. "You don't still want-- There's something wrong tonight." He shook his head. "You feel it, too."

Dean didn't deny it, even though half of his problem was that none of this felt as wrong as he wanted it to.

Seth twisted his wrist free of his grasp and raised his fist, bringing Dean's arm up with it. "Where is the key, Ambrose?"

He laughed, pushing down the ache building in his gut at the loss of touch, and jerked against the chain, welcoming the bite of the steel. "There's a little pocket in Roman's vest," he said. "Doesn't even know it's there yet. Was gonna find him after the show."

Seth's face twisted into something ugly and smug, and Dean wanted to wipe the sneer off his face, with a punch or a kiss or both.

"And what? Beg for his attention? Big man's got bigger concerns than you now."

He felt himself flush with a different heat than before. "Maybe, maybe not, but you're still stuck with me 'til after the main event, Sunshine." He advanced on Seth and got his unshackled fist twined into his hair, felt Seth's chest rise against him with each heavy breath. "Unless you want to go out there now and let all those nice people in the crowd see just how much you like being chained up to me?" He jammed his leg back into the space between Seth's, drinking in the abandoned noise he made when their hips ground together.

Seth turned his face away, and Dean leaned in to bite a vicious kiss onto the exposed skin of his neck. When Seth's fingers twisted into his hair, he expected to be jerked away, but instead he felt himself being held in place, Seth's breathing gone harsh and ragged.

"Wait," Seth panted, fingers now pulling his hair while his cuffed hand groped for leverage to push Dean away. "Whatever this is, we're not doing it in the open."

"You wanna keep me your dirty little secret?" He pulled back enough to look at the mark already coloring up on the soft skin above Seth's collar.

"Like you'd have it any other way," Seth scoffed, but his face was soft, and for just a beat Dean remembered what it was like to be with him without being primed to hurt. It took all the pride and restraint he'd ever had not to melt into him and finish right there.

"You're the man with the plan," he said roughly. "Find us a place."

Seth tugged him down the hallway, first by the pull of the cuffs, then by taking his hand, the silver chain swinging loose between their joined hands as they rounded a corner. He felt the stroke of Seth's thumb over the back of his knuckles all the way up his arm and back down his spine.

Seth pushed open the door to the first dressing room they passed, and let it swing shut again when it revealed a writhing heap of sequins and fringe and fur and fuzzy streamers. One wrecked "Mmmm, gorgeous" followed them down the hall as they moved on.

Door number two was caught before Seth had opened it more than a couple of inches. "Occupied!" Sandow announced through the gap, managing to sound imperious even with silver paint smeared through his beard.

"Third time's the charm," he said, as they ducked into what turned out to be a narrow storage room, brimming with carts laden with folding tables and steel chairs, except for the small clear space behind the door that they were now occupying.

Seth didn't answer, except to push him back against the door and rip impatiently at the remaining scraps of his shirt. Like he needed to touch every bit of his skin just as badly as Dean did.

The cuffs meant that he couldn't get Seth all the way out of his shirt, but he tugged the tails up from his belt, and between the two of them they got the buttons of the shirt undone or torn free to leave the front open. Seth's chest, familiar and new all at once, pressed against his own, both of them pouring sweat in the close space.

"Here," Seth said breathlessly, and maneuvered them so that Dean faced the door, with Seth tucked close behind him, the arm attached to the cuff crossed over his own chest, his hand and Seth's resting together at his opposite hip, the chain linking them jingling lightly as Seth moved against him.

In the first moment, it was a relief - not trying to read what was on Seth's face or worrying about what his own didn't hide - but he realized pretty quickly that this was hardly less intimate. The fingers of Seth's cuffed hand dug into his hip and the other ran down his chest. His face tucked into Dean's neck, hot breath on his skin burning him up from the inside out.

Seth rubbed up against him, frantic and filthy, still tucked into his dress pants but hard against his hip, his thigh, his ass, where he thrust into him like there weren't so many layers and so much bullshit still separating them. He mumbled something incoherent into Dean's shoulder and his free hand dropped to his navel, thumb dipping beneath his waistband.

"Help me with this," Seth commanded, fumbling one-handed with the fly of his jeans, even as the roll of his hips fell into the unsteady _thisclose_ rhythm that Dean remembered.

It was clumsy, both of them working with just one hand, and Dean might have laughed about it, before, or if he were with someone else, or maybe even in the here and now if everything in him hadn't boiled down to a raw ache. Still, they managed, and he had to throw his free hand up to brace himself against the door when Seth's hand wrapped around him and eased him free of his jeans and his knees tried to give.

Seth jerked behind him again, a couple of last ungainly strokes before Dean felt him going taut all over, spilling right there in his fancy pants, a hitching breath buried against Dean's own jaw. All of that put a new urgency into the twitch of his own hips into Seth's hand.

Seth mouthed along the back of his neck, licking at the rivulets of sweat that ran down from beneath his hair, and the combined touch of his tongue and swipe of his thumb were enough to shove him over the edge, spattering hot over his own chest and curled arm while his vision went to stars and Seth shifted to take the weight his legs didn't want to hold.

"You still haven't paid for anything," he said, when he could speak again, however roughly. "Whatever the hell this is, it doesn't change anything."

Seth was still draped over his back, and Dean felt his breath, returning to steady and even, in the rise and fall of his chest against him. Seth moved his hand in a soothing stroke over his ribs, smearing his own tacky mess into his skin, and he was sure he felt his lips curve into a smile against the top of his shoulder before he spoke, just louder than a whisper. "Why change what's working?"


End file.
